The New Robotic Revolution, Part I: Code, Craft, and the Human Touch
I recently listened to a conversation between Simon Sinek and Steven Bartlett where Sinek painted a striking picture — one that hasn’t left my thoughts since.
He noted that “nature abhors a vacuum and always strives to find a balance.” When the first robotic revolution arrived in the 1970s and 80s, factory floors were reconfigured and entire generations of skilled labourers were told their services were no longer needed. Betrayed by the very companies to whom they had entrusted their livelihoods, they were replaced by machines — faster, more efficient, tireless. Robots didn’t need sick days, holidays, or maternity leave. Just electricity and an annual service check.
When these workers asked what they were supposed to do now, the answer from management was blunt:
Reskill. Retrain. This is the future. Learn to live with it. Adapt or perish.
Fast forward 40 or 50 years, and we are witnessing the second wave — but this time, the robots are made of code.
Like the picture indicated, artificial intelligence is spreading through the world like wildfire taking tasks and whole jobs. And this time, it’s not blue-collar jobs on the chopping block, but white-collar knowledge work: designers, writers, administrators, analysts, coders, financial advisors, legal professionals. Tasks once requiring entire departments are now completed in moments by individuals wielding AI tools from their laptops.
The cycle repeats: Change. Reskill. Retrain.
Simon Sinek suggests that nature found the balance in this second wave of workplace automation.
I’m not sure I agree completely with that. My thoughts are that this may just be another tier of the pyramid, that we have designed our society into,
that’s been caught out this time.
But while this disruption unfolds in the spotlight, something quieter (and arguably more profound) is happening in the shadows.
The Counterweight of Craft
In a world of acceleration, automation, and digital replication, the analogue, the slow, the physical, the handmade, is rising in perceived value. The people who work with their hands: plumbers, electricians, chefs, luthiers, are not bracing for replacement by AI. They’re experiencing something quite different: increased respect, demand, and appreciation.
We who shape things deliberately (who deal in asymmetry, friction, tension, intuition) are watching the world circle back toward us.
Handmade. Imperfect. Deliberate. Unique. Purposeful. Custom.
These qualities are becoming their own new standard.
High-end art collectors now request affidavits, sworn legal declarations, from artists to prove that their work wasn’t generated by AI. Why? Because often, the difference is no longer visible. And while many are happy to decorate their homes with AI-generated décor, others still want to own something real. Something with a traceable lineage. A human story. Something with soul.
Whether that’s a matter of taste, prestige, or investment, it reveals something essential.
What’s made by human hands has a value AI still can’t replicate.
Newton’s Law (of Culture)
Sir Isaac Newton’s third law of motion tells us: every action has an equal and opposite reaction.
As AI moves into every corner of work, there’s a rising hunger for things that are tangible, true, and slow.
In violin making, this shift is deeply felt. I’m not a purist — there’s a place for factory-made instruments, especially for beginners who are just getting started. But even these entry-level instruments benefit from the care of a professional local workshop to ensure proper setup and comfort.
As players grow, so do their ears and expectations. And when it comes time to invest in something that truly fits (that won’t contribute to the playing injuries suffered by up to 86% of string players) it’s the independent artisan, not the factory, who offers a path forward.
Yes, one might get lucky at auction. But unless you’re an expert, damage and restoration needs can easily go unnoticed, until they become costly or compromising. Independent makers don’t mass-produce. We don’t seek the factory’s idea of perfection. We seek resonance. Uniqueness. Life.
We use technology, but we don’t let it replace intention.
Our bottom line is not GDP or crypto.
Our bottom line is culture, heart, and soul.
The very things that make us human.
What do you think? Can crafts offer what AI cannot?
And if so, what analogue skill would you choose to champion, support, or make your own so it endures as a testament to human culture?
Coming Soon: Part II – Wabi-Sabi in the Age of AI
In the next post, I’ll explore the Japanese aesthetic of wabi-sabi and why it may offer a guiding light in our synthetic age.
We'll also talk about the loss of educational institutions like Newark School of Violin Making, and why that loss isn’t just about skills, but about preserving the essence of who we are.